


the cities above us

by SugaKawaKawa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Gangs, M/M, Murder, Nonbinary Sugawara, Other, References to Drugs, Sexual Content, Violence, additional tags and characters to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugaKawaKawa/pseuds/SugaKawaKawa
Summary: Suga flicked their wrist a few times as they dragged their dirty, bloodied boots over the adorable little Welcome! mat Tooru placed in front of his office. It used to be a bright pink with paler shades of the color polka-dotted along the edges, but now it was a disgusting, matted, and mangy brown mess, crusted with dried mud and blood.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	the cities above us

**Author's Note:**

> Huge content warning.  
> I'd like to specify that the Character Death tag is NOT for Oikawa or Sugawara. I won't say anything else, though~ no spoilers~

Sugawara lurched forward from where they stood, eyes flashing and their clammy hands tightening their grip on their silver knife handle. The blade reflected the light from the single bulb above them with a flash before it buried low and deep into their victim’s chest. The person let out a strangled cry, ugly and garbled, as blood quickly flooded into her lungs. Suga felt a chill climb up their spine and their whole body shuddered as they meticulously twisted the knife with a smile, relishing in the way the poor,  _ pathetic _ woman finally slumped, crumpling to her knees. They pulled out the blade with a choppy movement and stepped back as she fell forward, not being able to help the grin that broke out across their features. They giggled a bit, nudging at the limp, but still breathing, body that lay at their feet. They bent down onto a single knee, crouched down, and pressed their soft lips to her cold ear. 

_ “Die,  _ Shimizu Kiyoko.”

  
  


* * *

Suga flicked their wrist a few times as they dragged their dirty, bloodied boots over the ratty little  _ Welcome!  _ mat Tooru placed in front of his office. It used to be a bright pink with paler shades of the color polka-dotted along the edges, but now it was a disgusting, matted, and mangy brown  _ mess, _ crusted with dried mud and blood. 

Tooru refused to get rid of it, no matter how many times Suga told him that it’s  _ gross.  _

__ _ “It adds  _ character,  _ my dear Koushi. And besides, our wonderful  _ guests _ need to be welcomed! Hell knows I’m not going to do it, why not have a cute little mat do the job?” _

__ _ “Tooru. It’s not cute, and it smells like death. It’s probably a fucking health hazard, at this point.” _

__ _ The brunette gave that annoying pout that Suga could never help but find adorable. However, the words paired with said pout made them roll their eyes with an irritated sigh.  _

__ _ “Don’t swear, it’s not cute,” Tooru demanded with a small teasing smile. “And I’m not getting rid of it!” _

__ Sugawara shook the memory out of their head, opting to shove open the door in front of them. It was heavy and creaky, and the whine of its opening made them wince. 

“Once I have a break, we’re cleaning this whole building,” Suga informed Tooru as they stepped into his ‘office’. The floor was cold, dark concrete, but the walls were vibrant and alive. Sugawara’s own pictures, blown up and printed onto large canvases, covered almost every inch of all four walls. Their were images of flowers, silhouettes, shadows of buildings and overlooking the bright, busy city. 

Lifeless mutilated bodies. Beautiful captures of the full moon.

The biggest picture, of course, was of Tooru himself. It was no secret that the leader of Aoba Josai was narcissistic and self-obsessed, and loved the sight of his own face- so it was never a surprise to  _ anyone,  _ whether a part of Aoba Josai or not, that there was a huge portrait picture of a shirtless and bloodied Tooru on the wall behind his desk.

Suga liked that picture almost as much as Tooru, although they would  _ never _ admit it.

Suga looked around, frowning at the lack of response, to see that the room was empty and they’d spoken to no one.

They walked up to the desk, which was uninhabited, and sat down on top of it. There were three computer monitors, a keyboard, a mouse, and piles upon piles of files and paper. There was probably a pen or two and a gun hidden under all of the paper as well, but Suga wasn’t here to snoop and find out. They was simply here to wait for Tooru to return, and tell him they had completed their little mission. Maybe make out a bit. Then go to fucking  _ sleep. _

_ Just where the hell was Tooru, though? _

__ The man was almost  _ always _ sitting in his expensive little chair, or maybe the couch against the left wall, flipping through reports or speaking with a feigned sweetness on the phone, waiting impatiently for Suga to return. Not that Suga has never returned to an empty office before, or that it worried them, but it felt weird not to be assaulted with hundreds of kisses all over their face and neck while being manhandled to the couch the second they walked in. 

Suga prided themself on their patience, but after half an hour of sitting on wood and staring at pictures they’ve had memorized for over a year, they were definitely bored. 

They’d had to do much less for much longer, of course, during certain missions, but those times always had a certain thrill. Anticipation, bloodthirst, knowing what they was hiding out for.

Right now, they was just waiting for their stupid lover to come home. So, they absent-mindedly picked up a crisp tan paper file and flipped through it. They wasn’t really reading it, just gazing over some words here and there and humming at the occasional photo. 

_ Atsumu Miya…. Shooting… Another amateur drug ring… Seven dead…  _

__ A loud knock on the door echoed around the room, and Suga snapped their head up. The knock meant that the person wasn’t Tooru- why would he knock to get into his own office?- and that immediately put them on alert. Late night- more like early morning, in this case- visits weren’t uncommon, but Suga had yet to deal with one on their own.

This little… _business_ that was going on wasn’t Suga’s, after all. It was their boyfriend’s, who sometimes asked (more like told, but Suga could never really tell him _no_ either way) Suga for help. Suga always agreed, not only because they found it impossible to say no to Tooru, but also because they would never decline a chance to slaughter somebody. It was just too _fun._

Suga preferred killing for fun, the thrill and the entertainment from watching the life drain from somebody’s eyes was always more enjoyable when they did it just for themself, or maybe somebody they liked. It wasn’t usually competitive for them, nor did they prefer to do it systematically or because someone paid them to. It was Tooru who wanted to capitalize on it, who started this business of  _ killing. _

Suga debated just waiting in here until the person went away, but as it turned out, the person wasn’t here just because they wanted somebody dead or some illegal drug shot up their veins. It was Terushima Yuuji, who opened the door and waltzed in without any prompt.

“Ah, I knew someone just  _ had _ to be in here, though I assumed it would be the Grand King. Never thought I’d get the chance to see the infamous  _ Koushi Sugawara _ all on his own,” The blonde purred with a grin, closing the door behind him with a loud  _ slam _ that bounced off the walls. Suga carefully set down the file in their hand, hopping down from the smooth wooden desk.

“What’s the point of knocking on the door if you’re only going to walk in anyways?” Suga asked, judgment but not surprise in their tone, as they crossed their arms. “Tooru’s not here, come back later.”

The blonde took a few steps forward, hands in the pocket of his loose and torn black jeans, and tilted his head. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not actually here for Tooru. Seems we’re both pretty lucky today, huh?”

Suga raised a silver eyebrow, hiding their surprise. “What business do you have with  _ me _ at  _ Tooru’s  _ office?”

“Where else am I supposed to look for you? You’re either here or nowhere, Suga-chan. No one but Tooru knows where you go,” Terushima pointed out with a shrug. 

Suga scowled. Of course, this blonde, energetic,  _ idiot _ had to make a decent point. Suga was never the best at hiding their emotions, and Terushima noticed that his answer annoyed them. 

“That doesn’t answer my full question,” they snapped, making the taller of the two grin even wider. 

“Right, right. Well,” Terushima’s caramel brown eyes turned three shades darker, his smile wider and more wicked. He reached behind him, and before Suga knew what was happening, the barrel of a gun was pointed at their face.

“You’re coming with me.”

* * *

__ Tooru Oikawa was a well-rounded, highly-educated, highly-skilled, highly-trained young man. He was 25 years old, a little over 6 foot, a Harvard graduate, pansexual, the most handsome man you’ve ever had the fucking  _ pleasure _ of seeing, and also lost.

He kicked a rock that lay on the paved road he walked along angrily. The looming trees on either side of him cast tall shadows, obscuring some of his vision. He heard an owl hoot mockingly, and he fought the urge to hiss like a mangy member of Nekoma.

He had been meeting with the leader of Shiratorizawa, something that already put him in a spectacularly foul mood. Such a foul mood, in fact, that when he left their shitty base, all he could think about was carving the bones out of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s  _ fucking _ body. Fantasies of slicing him slowly to death plagued his mind.

_ Tying the huge, ugly brunette down to a grimy stone floor. Bringing the tip of a blade to his face, dragging it down from between his eyebrows to the tip of his nose to his chin, not yet breaking skin. Continuing to trail the knife down his neck to the hollow between his collarbones, giggling at the terrified shiver the bitch would give. He’d be shaking, begging for mercy as Tooru finally broke skin and dragged the knife against his clavicle, revealing bone and muscle- _

__ Ah. Tooru was getting caught up in his fantasies again. Exactly what got him lost in the first place. He hadn’t been paying attention.

Nothing so embarrassing had ever happened to him,  _ ever. ( _ This was a hyperbole, of course.)

Okay, fine, maybe he was being a  _ little _ bit dramatic, but you try being known as a cold, ruthless, methodical killer, being hunted down by multiple groups and gangs- not to mention the  _ police-  _ and then have something as silly and small as  _ getting lost _ preventing you from going home to see your adorably precious lover. 

  
  


And, to top this simply  _ horrible _ night- now early  _ morning  _ at 5:00am- when Tooru had  _ finally  _ walked into his office, it was to see some guy with a blonde undercut bloody and unconscious and tied to  _ his  _ chair. 

Suga themself was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, the papers previously meticulously (dis)organized upon it scattered across the floor.

This of course, as irritating as it was, was not the worst thing he saw as he entered his office. Nor was it his lover’s scathing glare, nor the blood staining the ground.

The worst part, the part that actually made Tooru  _ scream-  _ internally of course, he was always very put together- was the giant  _ bullet hole _ in his favorite picture.

“Suga-chan~?” He questioned lowly, finally tearing his gaze away from the absolute  _ mess _ in front of him to meet Sugawara’s eyes. “What the hell is this?” his tone was low, upset, but as usual Suga didn’t flinch.

_“This_ is what happens when you aren’t _fucking_ here, apparently,” They answered, resting their elbows on their knees and chin in their hands. “This bitch came in and thought he could _kidnap me._ I have no idea how he knew you weren’t here, either. That’s the only reason he’s not dead- you can do that yourself, I know you want to after seeing what he did to your precious picture.” 

“He tried to kidnap you?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“And then shoot you?”

“Mhm.”

Oikawa looked at the body once again. His arms, covered with shredded sleeves that he knew was Suga’s doing, were tied to those of the chair, his legs the same. There was a very obvious stab wound still oozing blood through his jacket on the blonde’s left arm, and a gash on his temple.

“What an idiot," The brunette scoffs, grabbing his phone to call for some new recruits to come pick up the bloody mess splattered on his desk and his floor before glaring at the hole in his picture. “Now give me that gun.”

Suga chuckled and grabbed the barrel of the gun, tossing it to their lover. “I think we should interrogate him before we kill him, love.”   
  


Oikawa scoffed. “Another one will come. You said he tried to kidnap you, right?” When Suga nods, he points the barrel at the blonde’s head, and shoots.


End file.
